The Slave that Started an Empire
by HonourTOne
Summary: Circe, a slave from years ago, tells the story of the slave revolt led by her husband in Terreille. The revolt soon turns into a battle to gain riches and power where Circe's husband soon gets entangled in something he can't escape: the wrath of Kaeleer.
1. The Slave Auction

Disclaimer: You recognize it and it ain't mine, as it were.  
  
I promised Altecus I'd do this one day. One day long ago. Even now that promise seems fatal, as it did then. But it is now that I come to fulfill my debt, for then, we will be equal.  
  
Fourteen years earlier.  
  
Circe sat in the darkened corner of her wet, stone cell. One that would breed horrors yet never let her go. The moonlight streaming in through the crumbled ceiling flickered off welts growing red from those rusty chains about her ankles and wrists. Her tattered dress, seemingly large on her thin and shivering body, hung limply over her shoulders. It was matted with dirt and blood, like her hair. Like that long, dark curly hair. It used to be soft and clean when she was a little girl in Glacia, but not now. Not anymore.  
  
A group of slaves in the corner opposite of her-three young girls-whimpered and muttered among themselves, their eyes red from crying. Circe didn't have any feeling left. There was no pity left, especially in that darkened cell. Tomorrow was the slave auction; tomorrow was the day her fate would be decided. How cruel Lady Fate was; Oh how she despises me, Circe thought bitterly.  
  
The next morning dawned bright and clear and when the guard came in, an amused smirk on his face at the perverse amusement of a slave auction, Circe was in her same place, unmoved. Dark circles fell under her eyes, and her skin was as pale as white marble. Releasing her from her chains, the guard grabbed her roughly by her upper arm and yanked her up.  
  
"Hello there, beautiful," he said mockingly, "How about a little kiss?" he said chuckling, leaning in. Kicking him with the instinct of an animal, he let out a howl of pain.  
  
"Why, you little bitch!" he called out, pulling out a club. Fear steamed in Circe's eyes for she knew that there was no where to run and no one who cared.  
  
"That's quite enough, Mr. Wasani," came a bored, cool response from the cell's door.  
  
Well maybe one person cared. But then, again, it was only for the profit she might produce.  
  
Swearing silently, the guard yanked Circe by her arm and pulled her out of her cell and towards the Auction block. Towards the jeering crowds. Oh, how she hated those blocks; to be sold off like a piece of furniture. Pushing her up the stairs, Circe looked out upon the crowds, barely hearing the auctioneer yell out her worth.  
  
And so it began.  
  
With each passing moment, bids were yelled out and crude jokes thrown out about women. How cruel the age of men!  
  
Finally, minutes later-though it seemed much longer-Circe was sold to an elderly man in a clean white tunic. He was important enough for Circe to know of him. He was the Master of the Guard in a rather large court of Terrielle, a court where slaves weren't subject to much kindness. His name was Magnus.  
  
Too tired to weep, Circe allowed herself to be taken from the block and hulled down to another holding cell. Someone threw her a new garment, relatively clean to the one she wore now, and instructed her to change. Used to having no privacy, Circe merely turned her back and changed quickly. Moments later, Magnus entered, his cold grey eyes flickering about the room and finally resting on her. Without saying a word, he managed to instruct his guards to take her away as he swept out of the room.  
  
Hours later, Circe sat in a rather cramped coach, riding the winds. Those around her called out questions wondering where they were going, what were they to do and who was their new mistress. But it didn't really matter, did it?  
  
As the coach came to a halt, Circe was forced out by a guard brandishing a club. Not needing to be assured that he would use it if necessary, Circe quickly followed his every order. Finding herself in a crude room moments later with a group of three other women, Circe sighed. No beds, no chairs, no pillows. Two blankets sat in a heap on the floor, matted with dirt. Looking out of the single small window in the room, Circe felt the fading light of the sun upon her, mocking her of its freedom to come and go.  
  
Looking at the other three women, Circe, studied them intently. One looked rather old, with calloused tanned hands and gray brittle hair. The other two were middle aged, in their fourties perhaps, about 20 years older than Circe. One had short blond hair and blue eyes, the other had light brown hair and hazel eyes. They all had blank eyes; Obviously not naïve, then Circe thought. They know what slavery is.  
  
Without speaking, they seemed to all understand one another. They all understood the power of silence, the need to think. Spreading out the blankets, they all laid down, knowing that even if they were lucky enough to fall asleep, they needed to pretend they could. To remain relatively sane.  
  
Sometime after midnight, Circe awoke from a very light sleep to find that a guard had burst into their cell. Smirking arrogantly, he called for them to get up. Two other guards entered, taking Circe and the two middle aged women out but leaving the older woman, Rain, behind. Dragging them out of the building, they soon entered another one, one guarded by an Opal shield. Seeing the opal jewel about one of the guard's neck, Circe made note of both things. The highest jewel the guards have is Opal and here's the man with it.  
  
Circe was shoved into the nearest cell, only to have the door snap close in front of her. Fear flickering in her heart, Circe turned around to endure her new environment. On a bed opposite of her sat a young man, a little older than Circe. He had light blond hair, a little messy and dirty, yet with strand long enough to fall over his empty gray eyes. His skin was tanned, probably from manual labor, and covered with the occasional scar or wound. His expression was blank, and his eyes studied her quietly. He was silent for a few moments before finally speaking.  
  
"I'm sure Magnus thought it would be an amusing entertainment to pair female and male slaves together in hopes of breeding, but I'm afraid I can't see why." His voice was firm yet gentle.  
  
Motioning his hand to a simple wooden chair opposite of him, he said just as quietly, "Please sit."  
  
Circe narrowed her eyes at him, not sure whether to trust him or not. After a few moments of silence, she inched towards the chair, finally sitting down. Looking away, she stared at the wall to her left, wanting to go home. Back to when she was a little girl.  
  
But his voice shattered her thoughts. "Do not be afraid. I will not touch you."  
  
Looking back at him, she cried for the first time in years. She didn't want to. She wanted to appear strong and in control. "Oh, but I'm terrified," she said quietly, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I hate you, Dorothea," she muttered in between her sobs.  
  
"My name is Altecus," the man said gently, keeping to his word and not touching her. She liked how he knew better than to try to calm her down, than to try to relate to her.  
  
"Circe," Circe said, looking up at him, her tears drying on her pale cheeks as she looked up at him.  
  
"Well, Circe," said Altecus, "If there's one thing I know it's that love makes fools of us all, as does hate. Don't shed tears over Dorothea SaDiablo, Circe, for she's less real than either you or me."  
  
Smiling gently at her, Altecus looked away. "I need sleep, Circe, for I'm sure I'll be used for labor. I bid you a very fond good night." And with that, he rested his head back and closed his eyes.  
  
After a few moments, he appeared to be sleeping, and his chest rose and fell gently.  
  
"Thank you," Circe whispered before falling asleep herself. His presence was calming somehow, like a lullaby.  
  
And as Circe fell asleep, there across from her in the dark, Altecus smiled gently and mouthed, "You're welcome." Early the next morning, the guards knocked loudly on the doors. Waking up instantly, Circe looked about, trying to remember what had happened last night. Altecus stood up quickly, putting on his leather boots. Getting ready silently, he finally walked over to the door. Placing his hand on the door handle, he looked down, silently.  
  
"It's people like you that will survive, Circe, and I thank the Darkness every night for it." And with that, Altecus quickly left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
Surprised, Circe looked at the door. Apparently, Altecus had learned more about her personality than she had expected. Enough to say what he had, anyway, and what he said was no small thing. Smiling for the pleasure of it for the first time in ages, Circe quietly left his room.  
  
Maybe Magnus was on to something with that whole female-male slave idea... 


	2. If you should fail

Circe walked tiredly back to her room, all off her muscles screaming in anguish. For the past few days she had been assigned the duty of collecting food from the fields. Not very good food, either. Slave food. Cheap fruits and vegetables that were rotting in the sun. Sighing deeply, she walked in the room, only to be greeted by the smile of an old woman. Over the past few days, Circe had come to learn of her fellow roommates, and they her. Rain was the name of the old woman; a fitting name, too, for her voice was as gentle as a midsummer rain. The blond haired woman was named Toki, and to be perfectly honest, rather annoying. Her endless chatter drove the rest of them to an icy edge of hostility. The brown haired woman had a warm personality, though she rarely showed it. She was rather quiet, which suited Circe just fine. Her name was Dragona.

"Sit down, girl," Rain said smiling, and handing her a clay cup of water.

Accepting the glass, Circe drank it all in one gulp, before slowing sitting down. "Thanks, Rain. I ache all over; those bastards drive us too hard."

"Watch your mouth, Circe." Rain looked over at her from her sewing job she had once again resumed. Rain was a skilled slave, and therefore cost more. She knew how to make clothes, blankets, you name it; a skill she supposedly acquired from her grandmother. Rain was a real lady; no swearing, no gambling, and no uncivilized discussions. She knew how to keep her mouth shut.

Too tired and sore to argue, Circe crawled over to the bed-if a bed is what you'd call it. The bed still consisted of a mere two blankets, but Rain promised to make them another one soon. Rolling on her left side, her back to Rain, Circe closed her eyes with slight pain. She had such little sleep that the bruises under her eyes were even beginning to hurt. Instantly, her mind filled with an image of Altecus. Snapping her eyes open, Circe sat up quickly, letting out a small whimper of pain in the process. She didn't want to think about him. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, and when she dreamed it was only of him. He had left an impression on her. One of hope. Having tried to trample hope her whole life, convinced that it only made you hurt in the end, she had to shut out those who inspired it.

She hadn't seen him for days. She didn't know anything about him, but he comforted her in some way. A way she hadn't known since she left home.

Magnus, meanwhile, sat in a wine colored leather arm chair in his Queen's parlor, his grey eyes staring into the fireplace and its flickering flames. The past few days had been hell, and yet his Queen, Veronica, insisted that he take no breaks from his duty. She subtly hinted that the consequences would be fatal, to say the least. Just then, however, the grand lady herself entered from her bedroom where a jaded pleasure slave stood getting dressed. Ironically, she stood dressed in virginal white, her purple dusk jewels hanging on a golden chain above her breasts. Her long red hair curled by her waist, and her green eyes, flickering with annoyance, held Magnus.

"How did our little breeding idea come along?" She asked very casually, looking away from him as she grabbed an apple from a silver fruit bowl on a nearby oak table.

"Fairly well, but I'm not satisfied. I'd feel happier if we tried one more time." Magnus stood quickly, cursing himself for forgetting to stand when she entered.

Veronica raised her thin left eyebrow at him. "I sent you to that auction to acquire females that would breed easily. How then, Magnus, could it possibly go wrong?"

Magnus cleared his throat, preparing to give her the speech he had hoped would explain things fairly well. "Rumors have been circulating that not all of the men slept with their women, for they found it, a bit, um, indecent......." Magnus trailed off. The speech was obviously doing the opposite of what he had hoped, or so it seemed as Veronica's face grew red.

"They're animals, Magnus," she practically shrieked, throwing the apple at him. "You speak as if they actually knew compassion! Slaves aren't part of civilized court life; don't presume such."

"My apologies, Lady," Magnus said quietly, biting his tongue, as he quickly bowed and turned to leave.

"Magnus-" that brittle voice rang out, sharp like rocks.

"Yes, my Lady," he said dryly, turning around to face her.

"Did I dismiss you?" Her voice had gone rather soft, yet held undercurrents of boiling wrath.

"No, my Lady," he said, trying to keep his temper in check, and Veronica knew it. Growing angry, she flicked her hand at him, a motion of disgust and dismissal.

"You always were a disappointment…" he heard her mutter as he turned to leave once more.

Deciding not to give her the pleasure of his anger, he drew his wrath inward and left the room. Left the mansion. Prowling across the estate with the hunter's stride, he called upon his second in command, Lansing. Cocking his finger at him, Magnus motioned Lansing over with that dangerous flame in his grey eyes.

"Gather the slaves, Lansing. I want a word with them, in the Lady's name."

"But, Sir-" Lansing began, his eyes growing wide as he prepared to decline the Master of the guard's request honorably.

"Do as I say!" Magnus hissed, narrowing his gaze at his right hand man. Apparently, disappointments were everywhere today. Nodding his head, Lansing pursed his lips together as he went off to fulfill his orders. He saw the slaves dragged out of their compartments, and fields. Work areas and homes. Muttering to the soldiers that had formed around him, Magnus had the soldiers assemble the slaves into two rows, each facing inward. Walking down the row of slaves, males on his right, females on his left, Magnus kept his tone sharp and eyes cold as he lectured them.

"As I'm sure you've all come to know, the partnering of males and females together a few days ago was a breeding exercise. I have come to learn that not all of you did your duty in this. We're going to do this again, slaves, and if I hear any other half ass job rumors circulating around, I'll chain you to the wall and leave you there to rot." Frightful whispers broke out suddenly, particularly from the female slaves. Throwing a glaring look at them, the women stopped suddenly as they lowered their fearful gazes to the earth.

Dismissing them, Magnus walked over to his captain, speaking quietly as the slaves slowly departed. "Tonight."

Circe found herself walking away from the lecture frowning. If she didn't do her duty, she'd be found out and punished harshly. If she did, and became barren, she would be cast aside as useless. Or worse, if she did and proved fertile, she may bring another slave into this world.

Walking back to the fields, she quietly resumed her work, focusing her energy on her work rather than the lecture. Manual work produced its own kind of relief, much to Circe's thankfulness. After a few more hours of that liberating torture, Circe found her way back to her room, only to find Toki and Dragona sitting together, quietly talking. Ignoring them, Circe walked over to the clay water jug on the floor and took a swing from it, utterly exhausted. Just then, the guards once again stormed in, like they had but a few nights ago. Quickly placing the water jug down, she quietly went with them, mildly happy to see Altecus soon.

Toki came up beside her then, disrupting her thoughts. "I hope we get new men this time," she said quietly.

A new fear struck Circe and her step faltered. She may not see him again. Hell, she may get someone worse…


	3. Fuel to the Fire

Circe was quiet as she was shoved into the men's slave quarters. Quiet enough to draw suspicion. Saying too little or too much could land a slave in a highly fatal position. Compared to the whimpers of other girls and the silent hatred of others she managed to let off no emotion, a talent that failed to be a charm in this kind of perverse court. It dawned on her as she continued to walk that there was no point in entertaining romantic fantasies; slaves couldn't afford that kind of luxury.

One by one those girls who had come with her had been shoved into separate compartments, forced to face what or who was behind it. Circe didn't know where they were anymore; they had entered at a different part of the building this time, and the complex hallways were enough to give anyone a bitter headache. As time dragged on, she became the last one left, alone with this bulky guard. Just looking at him, Circe knew what kind of man he was. The kind that spared false kindness to those who could pay for it. Circe felt him run his calloused hand through her brittle hair and stroke her neck. Falling into her inner self, she remotely saw what happened. Shadows and darkness. A bitter corner where no one could hear her screams, or lack there of.

Shaking her head, she rammed back into her body, her eyes flickering about the stone corridor. She was on the cold, wet floor. Her head was pounding fiercely as she rolled to her back. Closing her eyes, she tried to grasp what had happened. Someone had called something-what was it? A name, yes, that's what it was. The guard had dropped her and left her there with little care to her welfare. Brushing her hands over her eyes she shakily sat up—only to gaze into the eyes of the slave Altecus. Quickly standing up, she stepped backward so quickly that she fell against the wall.

"What do you want?" Her voice was cold; the voice she usually reserved for the aristocrats of society. Not feeding into her cold reception, he studied her quietly before finally speaking.

"My team was just released from work, as it were. You were being dragged by that guard back here, and I found that it would be....polite," he smiled suddenly, amused, "If I were to help you."

Looking about, Circe saw that there were no windows or doors. "How could you have known that?" She asked suspiciously.

"My jewel rank is higher than that of the guards, and am therefore able to tap into their thoughts."

"You wear a jewel higher than Opal?"

He smirked slightly, raising his left eyebrow at her. "I knew you were quick. Most don't observe details like that."

"Yeah, because they're more concerned with being raped," she hissed, instantly regretting getting snappy with him. After all, it wasn't his fault, was it?

"Stay here much longer," he said quietly now, "And the fear will be mutual. Come with me if you want to stay safe." Turning sharply, he stole down the corridor, walking so quietly that you couldn't even hear his footsteps. Following after him, as quietly as she could, she whispered things at him as they went.

"No one knows you're up here, do they?" She glanced up at him. Why wasn't anyone keeping an eye on the more powerful male slaves?

"There was a bit of a crises up at the palace, so no, they don't know." They passed the rest of the trip in silence, each with their own thoughts. Coming upon his cell, Altecus quickly opened the door and motioned her in, his eyes darting down the corridor for others present. Coming in almost right behind her, he gently closed the door. Moving into the main section of his room, Circe looked about silently, uncomfortably.

"I'd keep an eye out for that guard if I was you," Altecus said quietly, bending down to remove his work boots, caked in dirt. "He may get nasty verbally, but not physically—in public anyway. You'd do well to stay out of his path night and day, especially night."

Silent for a moment, Circe finally spoke. "I want to thank you, Altecus. You spared me the other night from brutality when you could have easily over taken me. And now, once again, you have saved me."

Smiling slightly he eyed her with his piercing gaze. It reminded her of her father's eyes. Strong, honest eyes. "I wouldn't say easily. I don't have it in me to hurt a woman such as yourself. The kind I always dreamed of serving." She blushed deeply, praying to the darkness that he couldn't see in the night. "But, of course, you are most welcome."

"Serving?" she ventured after a few moments of loud silence. "Did you ever serve a Queen, Altecus? Where do you come from?"

Sighing, he looked away. "I was born in a small village in Little Terrielle. My mother was a hearth witch, and my father served in the Queen's fourth circle. He was a good man, and he treated my mother like a Lady. He taught me everything I know, even tried to get me a spot in court. But then Hayll's shadow fell over us, and I haven't seen the sun since. I was taken captive and sold into slavery for perverse delight of aristocratic men and women." His voice grew bitter with his last words, and he seemed to draw into himself, no longer talking to Circe but explaining something tragic to himself. Shaking his head, he said quietly, "And where do you come from?"

Taking a deep breathe, she eyed him. "I lived in a small town in Glacia. The territory was ran by a man named Hobart, who let his bizarre appetites slowly eat away at the land. Taking over the town for what wealth it might bring, he sold several of its citizens, me included. I never saw my family again." That was the first time she had ever told anyone of her past; she always drew away from anyone who had asked before. Bringing her hands to her face, she tried to block out the tears from Altecus. Tried to block out her past.

He didn't need any words as he drew her in and cradled her in his arms. He had wanted to touch her the instant he saw her. Not for sex but for something deeper. His father had once told him that males need physical contact with those witches they serve, especially their queen. Something about her told him that she could be something great—was something great. Something he could believe in once again. And that's how they spent the night, cradled in each others arms, finding peace for the first time in years.

Circe took a deep drink from the clay cup in her hand, running her left hand over her brow in the blazing sun. Huddled in the group of other women, she listened to their gossiping chatter. Some of it proved rather interesting, while most of it, however, proved petty and useless. Turning around, she spotted there, off in the distance, the guard that had tried to overtake her last night. Quickly turning back around, she looked off into the fields, searching for Altecus. He was there alright, but too preoccupied with getting whipped to look up to often. They had made eye contact several times, and small hidden smiles, but the fear of getting yelled at was overbearing. Oh, she needed to get his attention. She wanted him to know the reason if she didn't show up tonight.

"You Bitch! Trying to hide from me." The guard came up quickly behind Circe and spun her around, his hand clamping down on her throat. "Did I give you permission to leave last night?" He shook her when she didn't answer, couldn't answer. "Well, did I?!"

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see people looking at them, and feel others with their eyes locked on her. But, most importantly of all, she saw Altecus in the distance, a dangerous anger flickering his eyes as his hand gripped his shovel tightly. But he didn't get a chance to move, or to strike. Just that instant, the slave master came over and broke up the fight. Stumbling away, Circe saw the guard directed to another part of the compound. Clasping her throat, she was quickly led away by Dragona and Toki. Toki kept releasing bursts of questions, while Dragona was wise to remain silent. Ignoring them both, she let them lead her back to their room, only to find that Rain was not there. Quietly thanking Dragona and Toki, she firmly yet gently asked them to leave her be. Falling back on their pathetic bed, she sighed deeply and loudly. A quiet knock on the door, however, had her sitting up rather quickly.

"Come in," she said, her voice strained with fear and pain.

The door slowly opened as an elderly poked her head through. Circe sighed with relief as she leaned back on her elbows.

"Rain…" The woman hobbled into the room, forgetting to close the door as she came over to Circe.

"Oh….I saw it all. Poor child. Stay away from them, Circe, stay away from them all." Her voice was filled with concern but obviously Rain was out of touch with present times. Circe couldn't just stay away. Not now. Not in this world. Smiling to indulge her, and a weak smile at that, Circe clasped the old woman's hand.

And it was so that later that day, as the diamond sky danced overhead, that Circe clasped Altecus's hand. They had been silent for quite awhile now. Only with one another could they find silence. It was comical, yet true. So bitterly true.

"It could have been worse," Circe finally said, looking up into his glacier eyes.

"Yes, and it will get worse as time goes on," he said bitterly, his eyes scanning hers. Pulling his hand away gently he ran his hands through her hair. "Unless someone does something about it....."


	4. Very, very near

Circe's eyes fluttered open quickly in the dark, fluttered away from that dream she kept on having. The kind of dream that she used to wake up crying with as a child. Yet, as she tried to remember it, it ran away, its long gown flickering out behind it, just out of reach.

"You need your sleep," came a quiet, gentle voice behind her. Rolling over to her left side in Altecus arms, she peered into his eyes in the dark, flickering with slanted moonlight shards coming in through the barred windows.

"You even more. Why are you awake?" Studying him, she sighed. He looked so tired. Too tired.

"It's a habit long held." He said, slowly looking away and up to the ceiling. But Circe wasn't one to be brushed aside so lightly. Resting her head on one elbow, she looked down at him with questioning eyes that read, "And?....."

Running his hand through her hair, he said quietly, "When I first became a slave, I used to have dreams about the woman I could love and serve. The woman that I could give everything I had to and more. But one day, I realized that not even the sweetest dream would do. It couldn't take away the pain." Sitting up, he rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze set on the moon. The unbound moon.

Sitting up with him, Circe rested her hand, tanned from hours in the sun and hardened through work, on his shoulder. "But we have found each other, Altecus. I love you." She looked at him with her deep brown eyes, pleading with his. Her gaze fell bitter, however, for she knew he wanted something else as well. "But that's not enough, is it?"

Looking at her, then, his eyes filled with that incorruptible dream and strength, he sighed. "No, it's not. I want us to be free, Circe, to have a home and family of our own. I want our children to grow up as free men and women, not slaves. I want to die as a man, not property." Pausing, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead and whispering, "That is why I can never close my eyes. Why I can never fall asleep."

Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her head in his chest and breathed in all of him. Bittersweet of all, though, was that she wanted the same thing. But it could never be. She used to cry for hours over the saddest words of all: What might have been.

"I know you, Altecus. You'd go to great lengths to acquire your dream. But I feel a shadow draw over my heart in the blazing sun when I see you talking to the other men in hushed voices. Voices shrouded in rebellion. And then, at night, I see you whispering secrets in the dark. Would you keep me from your dreams, yet draw others near?"

Gently pulling away from her, he looked down at her, and said in that voice shrouded in rebellion, "I push you away to keep you safe. Never fear, my love, for I live now to serve what might be. Hear this now, for I will only say it once in the safety of the dark: I mean to start a rebellion. One that will dazzle the realm and leave it forsaken. I shall play their own bitter games with them, and beat them with all of world as my audience. Terrielle shall feel their shame in their outrage. But, more than anything, when I have completed this, I want you at my side. I know what shadow stirs in your heart; no revolt has ever been successful. But, I swear to you, I shall give everything I am for it."

Circe was only half-surprised. She knew Altecus was up to something huge, but had yet to figure out what it was exactly. Laughing bitterly, she placed her hands on either side of his face. "I would follow you to the end of the world, even if that means Hell itself. You are the only light in this night I call my life. Do not question my loyalty, for your dream is mine, but you must be careful Altecus."

"I know, and I shall be. Kaeleer will take us in, for she will take pity on us."

"Will Kaeleer truly come to our aid?" Circe was slightly doubtful. With this new queen on the throne, she may turn against them; may try to put them "back in their place".

"Yes, I assure you, but before I carry this out, there is one thing I need you to do for me." A smile began to play on his lips.

"Name it," she returned the smile with all she had, her doubts melting.

"Marry me, Circe, and everything you ever cried for will have been in vain. I will give you what will be."

A wave of happiness fell over her, Altecus noted, but was soon followed by bitterness.

"Slaves can't marry, Altecus." Her voice was torn with grief. How could they ever marry?

Altecus chuckled, slightly, taking her hand and kissing it. "Don't marry me as a slave, Circe, but as a woman."

His smile decimated the grief and doubt in her. He will find a way for them to marry.

"I gave my heart to you long before I knew you, and now I'd gladly give my hand to you in marriage." Taking her in his arms, he kissed her with happiness that had been suppressed for years.

Several Days Later

Circe quietly entered Altecus's cell, and found him still dressed in his day clothes. Raising her left eyebrow at him, she quietly said, "Altecus, what-?"

Quietly, he shushed her, before gently grabbing her by her upper arm. Leading her out of his cell, they shot out of the building and into the surrounding wilderness. Weaving their way through the trees, it wasn't long before they came upon a stone cottage; its windows still alight with candlelight flickering through from within. It wasn't far from the compound; they must still be on the same estate, and therefore, very close to danger. A slave caught outside of their compound, especially at night, could face punishments ranging from flogging to even death.

Quickly walking up the cottage's stoop, a bare three wooden steps, Altecus knocked quietly on the door. It must have been a code, for it was a rather odd and long knock. Moments later, an elderly woman answered the door, and quickly motioned them in. Uncertain of where they were going before, Circe was now sure of where they were. She was standing in a sanctuary, a sanctuary disguised as an ordinary cottage. The room was small and over on the west wall stood an alter, one that seemed far from permanent. One that could be moved and was easy to hide….

"Let's make this quick," the elder woman said, blowing out all of the candles in the room, save the two on the alter. She was a good soul. One that helped slaves. One that would be rewarded in death.

Rubbing her wrinkled hands together, she motioned for them to draw forward. Smiling down at her, Altecus grabbed Circe's hand and led her to the alter. Returning the smile, Circe felt temporarily relieved of all problems.

The Next Day

Working out in the fields, Circe could see the male slaves walking to the food hall for their break, a meager meal of bread crust and water. Seeing Altecus, she saw him talking to two other men in quiet voices. Warily, she looked away and down at her left hand. At her wedding ring. It was a simple wooden ring carved with words in the Ancient Tongue, yet it was far from simple to her. She and Altecus didn't have any means of getting wedding rings for one another, so they gave each other what they could. The wooden ring was given to Altecus by his father, and the only piece of jewelry Altecus got to keep from his childhood days. Circe had managed to save a silver ring from the vicious slave masters; to keep it out of their grasp. It, too, was simple, and etched with a simple C, a reminder of whose it was. Afraid that it would catch someone's eye, Altecus kept it on a piece of twine about is neck, tucked under his shirt. Circe had always kept it in her invisible "cupboard", as it was sometimes called. She was able to do simple craft such as that, but she had never had her Birthright Ceremony or Offering to the Darkness. She never got a chance. Altecus, on the other hand, had had both. He had both a purple dusk, and sapphire jewel carefully tucked away.

She feared that one of the Slave Masters would catch word of the rebellion, but so far, it seemed that they hadn't. They would have acted by now, wouldn't they have? She feared that one of the men would betray Altecus and turn him in. "But for what?" she thought bitterly. Altecus was handing them freedom, yet there were slaves out there that would destroy that, all in the name of temporary favorism above others.

She had no idea when the rebellion was to occur, or for that matter, very much about it at all. She had respected his privacy and wish to leave her out of it, and therefore safe, but as time drew on she grew annoyed.

Later that night, she found herself thinking just that. Looking up at Altecus as he entered his cell, she noted that he had been talking with a group of four other men. Standing up, she stared into his eyes and quietly, yet firmly said, "Altecus, I want to know more about what is to come. I know you wish to keep me safe, but I want to be part of this dream, whatever the cost."

Sighing, he frown played on his lips. "Even your life?"

"You risk yours, and much more."

Biting his tongue, he decided to come from a different approach. "If you know nothing than you can't be forced to say anything. Should the guards find out, I want you innocent, seemingly oblivious to this rebellion."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she hissed a reply, "Am I that much weaker than you that I would cave under torture?"

"Women nurture, Circe. Leave men to the blood spilling."

"I want to know, Altecus. I have a right to know."

"You will know in time, like the others."

"You'd make me as ignorant as the others?"

"I would to keep you unnoticed. Be one of the others, Circe, for now."

"Others? I am your wife, Altecus. You shall treat me as such. You know I want what you want, and to leave me in the dark while you bask in the sun is the worst of all tortures."

Altecus narrowed his eyes at her, his anger growing as the argument grew. Circe knew that she had touched a nerve, an important one.

"What do you want to know, Circe?" he said softly, raising his left eyebrow at her.

"When." She said just as softly.

"That is undecided. We need enough time to gather support and information. We need to know how to get into the weapons storage and plans for after we take over the camp. Perhaps in a few weeks, at the earliest."

"And after we take over the camp, do you think Terrielle will just let us walk away?" She chuckled with bitter amusement.

Once again knowing better than to feed into a witch's temper and barbed wit, he replied. "We'll leave quickly on foot for Kaeleer, as you know. There, we can take up temporary sanctuary."

Circe absorbed this information, not as doubtful as before. Rumors had been circulating of a new Queen. The one they call Witch. Some said she was a terror, while others said that she was gentle. Either way, the new Queens in Kaeleer seemed to take a much kinder hand to slaves than the ones in Terrielle did. Circe was happy to hear that one of them, reportedly named Karla, had exiled Hobart for his cruel practices.

"Thank you, Altecus." It was all she could manage, as she laid down on the bed, thinking.

Muttering about women, Altecus set about to his own thoughts. The time was drawing very, very near.


	5. Outrage

Chapter Five

While Circe fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved and who loved her in return, there was an Eyrien Warlord Prince very much awake in the realm of Kaeleer. Haunted by dreams of his childhood and brutal years as a slave, Lucivar found himself patrolling the halls of SaDiablo Hall very late at night. He suspected that the dreams had resurfaced because the only memories he ever had of Daemon had been when they were slaves. Oh yes, Daemon, the Sadist Warlord Prince with the strength to put them all, save Witch, in a very quiet grave, had returned to Ebon Askavi, to the realm of that which was Witch. Seeing Daemon for the first time in years had brought back happiness, at first, but as time drew on, Lucivar found himself struggling with memories not quiet dead. Memories calling for vengeance and high debts. Daemon had forgiven him, but it didn't erase their past. It couldn't.

"Lucivar…" Marian stood quietly in the doorframe, candles from within the room behind her casting a halo about her dark locks. She had a black robe cast about her shoulders, and a sleepy look in her eyes, but most importantly of all, she had that gentle smile on her lips.

Turning around sharply, Lucivar saw his wife and smiled gently, pushing down any and all thoughts of Daemon.

"This is the third night you've done this, Lucivar…." She bit her lip before going on. "You have to let this thing, this thought, this idea which holds you down go. Just let it go." She finished her sentence softly, in a pleading way.

Not wishing to upset her further, Lucivar managed to chuckle dryly. "And you say I fuss. It does no good to trouble your self with it, my love, and it is gone, in its own way."

"Please, Lucivar, just tell me what it is. Ever since Daemon came home, you've become a mystery to me." Her gaze was questioning, yet full of caring.

Looking at her, Lucivar considered all of his thoughts, fears, and feelings. The vengeance that hung thick in the air that night in those crumbling ruins. That look in Daemon's eyes, and the pain that flickered in them with every verbal dagger Lucivar had hurled at him. The lies they both had believed. And then, on that fateful day, Lucivar had found the truth and almost died for it. He found himself in a rapid search to find Daemon and save him from that which could have made him fade away. And the service fair. He wasn't on those damned lists. Year after year, service fair after service fair, he was never there. Oh, Lucivar was happy when he had finally found him, but the unsettled dispute between them could never be forgotten. The debt had been erased, and Daemon was something of his former self, even after those diabolical years, but in the end, it was Daemon who had become the mystery….

"It's nothing," he finally said with a small smile.

Terreille

Magnus paced his study, his eyes darting over the walls almost as quickly as his brain darted through his different thoughts. There was a sense of uneasiness cast over the slaves. He could feel it. Hell, he could almost taste it. But he didn't know what it was or who to trace it to. It wasn't only uneasiness, either. It was excitement and vengeance that drove them quietly. Yet it wasn't strong enough. Wasn't broad enough. And, most important of all, it wasn't great enough. Oh, he had considered bringing his fears to Veronica, but he had no proof or very much information at all. All he could say was that he had a feeling, but the bitch could never understand that. Wrapped up in her aristocratic court, she could never understand anything that didn't involve jewels and gowns.

Taking a deep breath, he stopped pacing, trying to get his emotions in check should Veronica get any grand ideas of stopping by. She hadn't called upon him since their last meeting and he was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned the breeding idea. Probably forgot, he thought quietly, that fickle little pawn. They were all pawns now. Magnus could see that now that they were tightly in Hayll's shadow.

Using craft, he poured himself a small glass of whisky and quickly drank it. It wasn't until his third glass, as he collapsed into his chair, that he made a noise. Laughing softly to himself, he looked at the glass in his hand.

"I can wait."

Terreille

Rain walked slowly through the palace, a great heap of quilted blankets in her old, tired arms. Peering around the heap, she tried to stay out of others' way, especially if they appeared to belong to the upper court. Turning the corner, he found herself in a short hallway. Good, she thought, I must be going in the right direction. The footman one floor down, was kind enough to stop and give her directions, hurried as they were. One….two….three. Yes, that's what he said. Third door on the left. Feeling around for the door handle, she finally clasped it and yanked the door open. Quickly walking in, she found herself in a rather large linen closet. Setting the quilts down on the nearest shelf, Rain ran her hand over her brow, taking a deep breath. What had he said? Quilts go….where?

Scanning her memory, she muttered quietly. "I'm getting too old for this." Finally remembering his instructions, she picked up the quilts once more to move them to the back of the room. Sure enough, there was a shelf full of quilts there. Moving to the end, she lowered them onto the only available spot. Clasping the shelf for balance, Rain sat down slowly, hoping for a moment's rest.

Just then, however, the door to the linen closet creaked open and two young maids slipped in, whispering excitingly to one another. They carried a large woven basket between them full of neatly folded white towels. Setting down, they began to place the towels on a nearby shelf.

Now, Rain wasn't one to eavesdrop, but few, if any, could have resisted listening to that discussion.

"I honestly don't understand why that woman bought all those female slaves. She hasn't even kept an eye on the breeding plan. Waste of money if you ask me." The first had a rather loud, know-it-all voice; one that kept an ear out for gossip.

"She's crazy I tell you." The second didn't sound much better.

"No, just ignorant and frivolous. Stupid bitch, if you ask me. I swear, she'll get us all killed."

"Killed? We're out of the Hellish path now and in Hayll's protection."

"Not Hayll. I hear there's trouble stirring in the slave quarters. There's whispers of rebellion." Her voice was giddy, like this was no big matter. Leaning in, Rain peered in through the selves, watching them.

"Slaves a threat? Ha! They're animals. Where did you hear such nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense; the Master of the Guard thinks so himself."

Widening her eyes in understanding, the second one laughed. "You whore!"

The first smiled wickedly. "That's the price you pay for information."

"What else did ye hear?"

"Not much else. He was going on about how he just has a 'feeling'. I swear the whole court is losing it."

"Well you would, wouldn't you?"

Picking up the basket once more, now empty, the two girls slipped out again, arguing in hushed voices.

Leaving the room much later, Rain was very much afraid. What if they decimated random slaves to acquire obedience? Oh, the tortures they could impose….

Terreille

Circe sat quietly tucked away in the corner of their dirty cell, the last of the sunlight streaming in through the bars and over her face. Using craft, she sent her clay cup over to rejoin the water jug in the center of the room. Sighing, Circe leaned her head back, tired from work and the constant stress of being found out.

"Circe!" Rain hurried into the room, loudly slamming the door behind her. Walking quickly over to Circe, for she seemed unable to run anymore, she knelt down next to her.

"There's talk of rebellion…." She whispered, her eyes growing wide as she looked into Circe's.

Fear seizing her heart, Circe clasped Rain by the shoulders. "Where did you hear that?!"

Slightly shocked by her behavior, muttered a reply. "Maids…in the palace." Did Circe know something about this?

"What did they say?" Circe hissed.

"The Master of the Guard feels that there may be a revolt," Rain said quickly, her shoulders beginning to hurt under Circe's tight grip.

Releasing her slowly, Circe slowly stood up. It was so bizarre how she left the room. So mechanical and slow. Rain's mouth was gaped open wide, and was so when Dragona and Toki came in minutes laters.

Terreille

Circe walked slowly to the working fields, trying to escape the gaze of others. Looking around, she saw groups of slaves whispering quickly. All around, slaves spoke in hushed voices, and stole wary glances at the guards. The news must have leaked out through various sources. This was indeed the undoing of all their planning.

Seeing Altecus come back from the dining hall, she knew he was not oblivious to the news. She saw the bitter contempt in his eyes. He knew that there could be nothing now. The news had leaked out somehow and it would be a matter of moments before action was taken.

"You, there, woman!" A male voice had called her name, and as Circe slowly turned around, bitter contempt began to fill her as well. It was a guard, and she knew what he wanted. Over my dead body, she thought vehemently. Turning around swiftly, Circe quickly began to walk away, no longer caring.

She heard the gravel crunch under his boots before she saw him.

Clasping her by the shoulder tightly, he yanked her around. It didn't really matter if she died now did she? At least she would die by her own choice. Not like a slave. Punching him hard across the face, she managed to struggle out of his arms before a bit of Opal Craft froze her in her path. Suspended there, she looked frantically about for Altecus with her eyes. She had to apologize while she had a chance. He had to know. But he wasn't there. None of the males slaves were anymore.

The guard, emitting blood from his nose, had managed to stand back up, but was instructed to remain still. Rather, another guard, the one wearing the Opal jewel, came forward, eyeing her coldly. In one single movement, he hit her hard across the face with his gloved hands, releasing her from her frozen state, yet throwing her to the gravel. Looking up, she saw him draw a dagger, a very sharp one. Breathing heavily, Circe let her eyes go blank; she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her squirm. Yet as he bent down, his hardened eyes intent on the kill, he seemed to freeze in his place. And the light in his eyes died as he fell on top of her. Looking at him as he lay across her and fighting the urge to scream, Circe finally saw the axe in his back. Lightly touching the handle, she looked up.

For all those weeks of planning, it had come to this. A revolt that began the same way its planning began—with heated passion.

Altecus, quickly bending down, kissed his wife with that passion before pulling her to her feet. "I thought the revolt was suppose to start weeks from now," she said with amusement, bending down to grab the axe out of the guard's back.

"It just changed," he said quickly, grabbing her wrist as he flung her behind a stone wall. She could see slaves and guards alike running every which way. The male slaves mostly had weapons, but she could see that so did a few of the females. Grabbing her shoulders, Altecus looked straight into her eyes.

"Listen to me, Circe. I need you to grab as many women and children as you can and I want you to run. Run to the forest, Circe, and don't look back. Take cover in the trees, and wait for us to join you. Don't leave the trees, Circe, for they need you now." Quickly running away, Altecus managed to destroy numerous guards in his past with his Sapphire Craft. She didn't see the jewel on him, but then again, she didn't get a chance to really look.

Running from the stone wall, Circe, quickly ran to her own quarters, shoving people out of her way, and dodging guards (who were more interested in attacking the males, anyway.)

"Rain! Toki! Dragona!" She called out their names but she heard no answer. Shoving open the door to their room, Circe saw no one there. Cursing to herself, she quickly left the room, and went into the courtyard, scanning it for any of the three. Finally spotting Dragona, having taken cover in the trees, Circe shoved her way through the crowd over to her. Pulling herself up the branches, Circe grabbed Dragona's shirt and yanked her towards her so that their faces were barely inches away.

"You're coming with me. But first, where's Toki and Rain?" Not one to waste time, Dragona nodded and quickly pointed to the dining hall.

"Rain's in the dining hall, and I have no idea in hell where Toki is." But Circe did. Looking down, she saw Toki being strangled to death by a guard. It was too late to save her. Jumping out of the tree, Circe sprinted to the dining hall, hoping that Dragona had managed to follow. Throwing open the doors, Circe saw Rain in the corner of the room, taunted by two guards and surrounded by terrified women and children. Makes my job easier, Circe thought to herself as she picked up a nearby wooden chair and knocked it over the head of the nearest guard. Dragona quickly followed suite and took care of the other guard.

Dropping the chair, Circe eyed Rain and said rather firmly, considering the situation, "We need to get out of here. All of you, come with me if you want to live." Some of them moved, while others sat frozen with fear. Picking up the nearest woman by her upper arm, Circe hissed, "This is not a game. Get up now." Moved by a fear that was closer to them than the one outside, all of them managed to stand up. As their senses came back to them, they picked up their children, and eyed Circe warily. Running to the back exit, her foot steps echoing loudly off of the walls, Circe quietly opened the door and peered out. It looked clear. They had a shot yet. Smiling through her rapid breaths, Circe turned around to look at them, running a hand through her hair, unbound and damp with sweat.

"The Darkness smiles upon us." Opening the door slowly, Circe made one last check. Grabbing Rain by her upper arm Circe whispered, "I need you to run as fast as you can Rain. Try, please try." Not letting her go, Circe finally shot out of the room and motioned for them to come out. Motioning for Dragona to go first, Circe waited until they had all filed out, and, still holding Rain, formed the rear. Sprinting, Circe felt Rain stumble, but they couldn't stop. They couldn't look back. She could hear screams, and smell fear, but thankfully, she knew that she was running away from it. Trying not to think about Altecus fighting, Circe plowed onward, instantly regretting making Rain suffer more. Slightly slowing down as they came to the woods, Circe had waited until they were well in before yelling for them to stop. Holding onto Rain tightly to keep her from collapsing, Circe slowly began to walk on.

"Can't we have a moment's rest?" One of them called out in between deep breaths.

"No—we have to keep going." Circe had wanted to stop, but the urge to go on and be safe highly out weighed her desire to take a break.

"Where are we going?" Dragona asked quietly, coming up on Circe's right hand side.

"To the heart of the forest; we have to take cover in the tree tops, in the shelter of leaves."

"And what do we do once we're there?" Rain said gently, though there was a worried gleam in her eyes.

"We wait."

Kaeleer

Karla walked at a leisurely pace with Jaenelle in the garden, the fading sunlight casting a gleam over the blooming flowers. They had talked but a little, but then again, Karla reasoned, there wasn't much to talk about. Karla had considered bringing up the subject of Daemon, but it didn't seem her place to stir up childhood memories—or wounds.

"Did you feel that?" Jaenelle asked it so suddenly and softly that Karla had wondered if she had heard it at all.

"Feel what?" She asked gently, her eyebrow raising in question.

"Fighting. Anger. Hurt."

Karla had felt nothing, and it must have been written on her face for Jaenelle finally looked away and said rather quietly, "Nevermind."


	6. Interference

Author's note: I would first like to apologize to my reviewers. Rashly, I took reviews in a bad light, and responded in kind. And while I am still critical of reviews I receive, I am indeed happy with each and every one. Alas, I would like my writing to be seen past mere entertainment. Which means that I'd like to hear more about how to improve my writing style, rather than how it relates to the BJ world. Not to say that the latter portion wouldn't be useful, it's just not what I'm aiming for.

This fanfic fell back before it ever got past the beginning, much less anywhere near the climax. I'd appreciate the readers to give it another chapter or so. If it still doesn't match up to your criteria, then so be it. You did all that I asked and it's all I need to make me happy. Without further hesitation, I present my next chapter:

Altecus eyed a group of soldiers rushing toward him and his men, a menacing gleam in their eyes. Tightening the grip on his sword, all he could think of was freedom. He did not hesitate, nor did he pause, as he ran once more into death's welcoming embrace. Nor did his men. They were ready to follow the one who asked nothing of them, for what he was already doing himself. They did not fear death. Slavery had taught them that there were worse things than death, and that this revolt, in fact, was elevating them to higher ground. Breath came easier with every knife between the ribs and sword in the heart. Slicing through the armed guards, Altecus called upon his Sapphire jewels to finish off the kill, and burn away the mind.

But the fight was not yet over. It would be soon. These soldiers fought for their own lives. For their own advancement in this societal Hell. Yet no one fights harder, or longer, or braver than those who wish for freedom. Those who wish for something right. A thing that cannot be bought or sold on an auction block, yet grown in a garden of celestial roses.

Taking up his sword once more, Altecus looked back at his men once more before hurrying to the palace. Time to teach the bitch queen a lesson. Time to teach the Master of the Guard swift justice. Ramming open the palace doors, the slaves stormed in, rushing in every direction and down every hallway to attack anyone that stood in their way. Women and children were killed. Fathers and mothers slain, but that was the price. The palace was failing as the guards fell back, disorganized. They were frantic, with only their Master of the Guard to offer them strength. Magnus was at the top of the marble steps, looking down on the bloody scene with that gray gaze of his. Surveying the coming battle, he fingered the green jewels about his neck. His rank was lower than this animal of a slave, but he had superior skill in wielding it.

Altecus stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at the cold, solid figure of Magnus. Circe's silver ring glittered mockingly about his neck, as did is sapphire ring. Pointing his sword up at Magnus, he smirked and shouted.

"Magnus, now shall you deal with me!"

Magnus let out a hollow laugh, complimented by his bitter smile. Slowly, he descended the red carpeted stairs.

"You forced us into cruel labor. You called us animals. You treated us like we were nothing. You destroyed my life, Magnus, but your failure was only when you couldn't destroy my dream. Our dream," Altecus called out, taking a breath, as he clutched the silver ring about his neck, praying silently to the darkness for Circe's safety.

"Yes, my only mistake. But I shall crush it now!" Magnus moved to backhand Altecus across the face, but the younger slave was too quick for him. Grabbing his wrist, Altecus forced him to his knees as he made the bones crack. This slave knew how to wield his strength. Magnus, grimacing in pain, aimed his Green Jewel strength at Altecus, throwing him against the palace wall. Rib bones cracked. Men moved to help him, but Altecus motioned them away.

_This is my fight_

Standing up quickly, Altecus clutched his side and hurled a vat of sapphire power at Magnus. Managing to set up a Green shield, the Sapphire power broke through it, but lost its full power in the process. Magnus, too, was thrown back, but he quickly stood up as well. But Altecus was already rushing toward him, sword drawn. Aiming it down, Magnus rolled away just in time, flicking a blast of Green Jewel strength while he did so. Altecus set up his shield and blocked the attack as his sword came down and went through the marble steps. Yanking it out, he made another blow at Magnus, both with the sword and his sapphire power. This time, he didn't miss. Magnus, clutched his bloody wound as he closed his eyes in the pain the sapphire strength was causing mentally. Pulling the sword out of Magnus' chest, Altecus looked down at him, intent on finishing the kill. Luck played greatly in this battle, for Altecus had little skill in jewels while Magnus had a great amount. But Magnus wasn't very fortunate this time.

The Darkness favored Altecus.

"No, not your only mistake…" Altecus said through halted breath, growing tired of all the fighting and running. And with those final words, Altecus blasted Magnus mind with his Sapphire jewels and burnt his last thoughts to embers. Clutching his sword, Altecus grabbed Magnus by his hair and severed the head. Throwing it at the feet of the palace guards, Altecus eyed them coolly.

"Who now shall stand and fight? Who believes their cause so great?" He called out at them, looking each one, in turn, in the eyes. Without their leader, the men knew they were powerless, and they all either stepped aside or fled. Lowering his sword, Altecus nodded to his men to follow him up the steps.

Checking every room with the doomed queen, they finally came upon one locked door at the very end of the hallway. Smirking with amusement at Veronica's last display of hope, Altecus forced the door open, breaking the purple dusk shield…only to find that no one was there.

Angerily, he turned around to face his men.

"Where is she?!" He called. No one answered. Slaves coming down the hall towards them halted suddenly at Altecus's face. They were done searching the castle for other guards, but now found themselves both afraid and confused. Seeing them, Altecus rushed toward them, taking one of them by his upper arm.

"The Queen-have you seen her?!"

"No, Altecus. There's no one left…" _alive_. The last word went unspoken. But it was Veronica's disappearance that angered him the most. Frowning he entered the room, searching for any clues of her escape.

But he didn't find any. No secret doors, no trap doors. Nothing. Walking over to the window, Altecus looked outside. A pretty long drop. No one could survive that with magic. But Veronica wasn't stupid enough to jump into the fighting, anyway. And the dead bodies below suggested that there was indeed a fight there. Sighing, Altecus crossed his muscled arms across his chest as he tried to think.

But then, the answer appeared right in front of him. Literally right in front of him. Taking up his sword, Altecus fled from the room and out of the palace. He wasn't sure if his men had followed or not. Or whether it was a trap, but there was only one thing on Altecus' mind right then. And it was this: outside of that window was a view to the entrance to the forest, and a view to anyone running into it…


End file.
